I Came To Say Goodbye
by a mountain of gideon's scones
Summary: Percy returns to the place where he lost his brother in an attempt to get closure. What happens when Fred speaks to him? Crummy summary. for The Tribute To Fred Weasley Comp on HPFC. R&R please.


_For the Tribute to Fred Weasley competition on HPFC_

_I don't own anything_

_Character: Percy Weasley._

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The corridor has been repaired to exactly the way it was before – probably thanks to McGonagall's Transfiguration work – but it's not. It can never be the same. It can have the same tiled floor, have the same stone arches that allow you to look out over the once again perfect green grounds of Hogwarts, but it can _never_ be how it was before… before that night.

Before it was the place where I watched my brother die.

As I turn the corners silently to reach my destination – the exact place where he died, the place I feel closest to him now – I feel a stranger sense of melancholy than usual. Rather than just _my_ thoughts about Fred, the waste of his death, the pain that hits me every day since he died right in front of me, it seems as if there's others with me.

I glance behind me but the corridor is empty – just as you would expect to find it at almost three in the morning. In the months since the battle, I've slept next to nothing, and the sleep I have had is plagued by thoughts of Fred, how perhaps I could have saved him if I hadn't tried to be like him and make a joke out of what I was doing.

Normally, the walk down here is slow and isolated, something which only seems to heighten my pain. Tonight, however, it feels like Hogwarts is standing behind me, in a show of unity to attempt to demonstrate the feelings of loss they have for their fallen brother.

Whilst I know they are not there literally, I imagine that there are hundreds of people marching behind me, silent in their respect for Fred, marching to the spot where he died to show that this spot's tragedy shall never be forgotten. It manages to bring an almost smile to my face to imagine this, since I know it's so blatantly not true: Fred died months ago. Everyone seems to be finally getting over it. Everyone besides me.

Ahead of me, I can see the place where his last laugh occurred, see the place where the wall caved in and crushed him to death. As it does every night, it forces me to stop, to take a deep breath and remember the agonising pain that _I_ was here, yet I couldn't save my little brother, feel it washing over me. I always manage to make it on – yet the army behind me, the solidarity there in my mind, urges me forwards faster than I would normally.

All too soon, I am confronted with the place where he died.

It looks perfect once again, not a blemish in the way the stones fit neatly together. You wouldn't have thought that not even six months ago, the wall was in pieces, rubble scattered over the floor from its desiccation.

Now it's perfect once again. Everything is perfect…besides for the fact that Fred is no longer with us.

It's a strange thing that I come here to be close to Fred. I could quite easily Apparate over to his gravestone in the graveyard where he has been laid to rest forever. After all, it's much more practical, since it means I don't have to Apparate to the end of the drive and then walk up towards the school building, slipping in through the main door and making my way up here. However, spending time with him in the graveyard doesn't feel right. I don't feel his spirit there – how can you have spirit in a location where you have never been alive in?

Here, I spent his last moments with him. It was a time where I had a chance to spend my first _real_ time with him in almost three years, when I _stupidly_ deigned to go on the side of the Ministry rather than Harry and Dumbledore. Whilst this hallway is the location where he breathed his last breaths, gave his last joke, had his last laugh, it's the first time I had been close to him in a _long_ time.

That's why it's so special.

I place my hand on the grouting near to the section of wall which collapsed, swallowing loudly as my eyes close. The tears, as usual, barely stay inside my tear ducts and it takes a long time for me to collect my thoughts to an adequate level that means I can continue and say what I have to say to Fred.

"Hello Fred," I manage a half smile as I greet him, imagining his spiritual body greeting me back, something along the lines of, "Yo, ministry loving moron! How you doing?" So I decide to ask him his favourite question back. "How are you doing?"

In this strange conversation that I have every night, Fred takes his time in answering, something which partially annoys me until I remember where I am – after all, with the same question being asked every night for God know's how long, his answer can't have changed much!

His voice is cheerful and light as he speaks back to me inside of my head. "I'm doing good, Perce, especially after you got that thickwit in the head for doing me in!"

Though I know he's not really real, he seems so cheery about his state of being – I mean, he's _dead_ – that it reminds me why I can't move on. If I move on from his death, I never get this chance to bond with him again. This is the most talking that we've done in years – proper talking, not him taking the mick out of me or me yelling at him to shut up.

"You know, Fred, you must be getting pretty sick of hearing the same thing about my life, so I thought I'd change things a bit tonight," I say aloud, opening my eyes and reaching into my back pocket. Inside is a copy of the notes scattered next to his grave from his friends, his family, and me… "I'm still going to remind you how much of an annoying pain you were, but I brought these to you. They're things that people have written about you, people who care about you, and I thought you'd want to read them," I continue, taking out my wand so that I can stick them to the wall.

I can almost hear his response, a slightly sarcastic hint to his voice, "Well, _finally_ you've done something different! Come on then, Perce, let's get cracking – I'm dying to see what people think about me!"

Rolling my eyes slightly at what I think Fred's saying to me, I begin to stick them up on the wall, reading them as I go along.

_Katie Bell: Fred, you're a legend and I'm going to miss you. Oh, and I still have that rubber wand that you thought you lost._

_Harry Potter: the fact that everyone has died for me is sad enough, but adding in your death to the equation is heart wrenching. Sorry you died for me, mate._

_George: my brother, my twin, my fellow prankster – where am I going to get half the good pranks from and have someone _honestly_ tell me that my ideas suck? Gonna miss you all the time, twin, and I'll never forget you._

And then mine.

_Percy: I'm sorry I've been such a pompous prat for the majority of our lives, Fred. I remember your fifth year, when you tried to get me to wear that jumper Mum made us, but I refused. I remember how you forced me to sit with you every Christmas time we stayed at school because it was family time. I'm sorry I failed in my job protecting you and I wish… I wish it was me where you are. _

I can almost hear his response to it all, "Katie, you little thief! Harry, I didn't die for you, you _numbskull_; you don't need to be so obnoxious and think it's _always_ for you – you'll be as bad as this one here soon! George, I'll be haunting you when your ideas suck, so don't worry… and Perce, mate, don't be such a soppy pants! Got anything else to be telling me, or can I go back to haunting the hot girls around here?"

I laugh at this one, since it's so different to 'his' (I have to remember that it isn't really him, it's just my imagining of him) responses normally, before sobering up. "Fred, how can I live with myself knowing it's my fault that you're dead? If I hadn't turned up, we wouldn't have been fighting together. If I hadn't have made that joke, you wouldn't have been laughing – maybe we'd have heard the curse and gotten out of the way. I could have done anything and you could still be here.

"You were an annoying prat at times, but that's sort of what made me love you so much – even if I didn't _want_ to laugh, you had me laughing, at least later on when I thought about it.

"I'm going to miss you, little brother. I don't think I'll be coming back anymore, because I need to let you move on, but I know that I'm never going to forget you, never going to forget that you gave your life and perhaps this is what led to my survival. Thanks, brother," I finish my long soliloquy, tears falling down my face and I survey the rest of the notes I plonked on there. They're all from people I know but the words are just mashing together until I can't distinguish a word from another, can't tell if the paper is pink or white or black, can't tell if a girl wrote it or a boy – can't tell _anything_.

All I can tell is that we all miss Fred, but he needs to move on.

"Finally," his response comes in my head slowly, but further away than normal. "I've been bored of this little haunting spot for a while now; I just wanted to hang round to make sure that you were ok. Now, I'm off to try and arrange for a joke shop to be put wherever I'm off to, so see you later."

"Bye," I whisper weakly, the voice in my head fading entirely. It seems strange to think I've actually been having conversations with my brother through my head – surely not! Then again, stranger things have happened.

"Ahh, Mr Weasley, are you finished with breaking and entering into my school nightly?" Professor McGonagall's cool sounding voice startles me into turning away from the wall to face her. She's not exactly standing in an obtrusive manner, yet the authority is there in her stance.

"Yes, Professor," I reply weakly, taking a step from the wall. "I just had to say goodbye," I continue and she nods, weakening visibly.

"I can understand," she empathises with me. "And, in all honest, I like the redecoration of the wall," she continues, smiling slightly.

"Thank you, Professor," I bid her goodnight as I beat my familiar path through Hogwarts for what I know will be the last time. This place is too painful for me now – I can never imagine returning to this school without Fred haunting me – or a ghost of a ghost of Fred's memory.

It holds so many bad memories that I can never return. Yet I have the spirit of Fred inside of me from this final visit and, as I walk out of the door, I hear the crowd who were behind me earlier applauding me.

I turn around and see them – the Grey Lady, Sir Nicholas, the Fat Friar – all the ghosts are here. They aren't who I heard earlier, or maybe they are. But they're here for me, watching as I leave the binds of pain behind me, removing the regret and 'what if' tag from around my neck.

I'll never be forgetting Fred Weasley, never. But I have the happy memories between us now, not the pain I've been carrying around for months.

I climb back into bed and, for the first time, fall straight to sleep. I dream of Fred, yet the dream is different. I see him boarding a train and heading off on his own, waving back at me.

Taking a train to beyond.

Taking a trip to the next life.

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_What d'you think then? Hope you liked it!_

_Please don't fav without reviewing!_

_Vicky xx_


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